Short Story Contest

[the blue fairy]

Please submit all short story entrys here

titled and signed
Max length will be determined soon
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Mellie Amresh says, "Send someone with a bigger dick."

A set of breast implants fall from the sky with a soft plop.

Caretaker Jornnoj Vunn looks up at the sky.

A passing guard suddenly shits himself.

[Downtweak]

Title: My Kitty Has a Fluffy Tail

I have a kitty named Tim. Sometimes, he licks my face and I giggle! He likes to eat bugs. One time, he chased his tail and I laughed and laughed!

-The End
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-Downtweak

[drainm2]

my short story aint so short at 10 pages in microsoft word...hehe, still want that posted here?

[the blue fairy]

as much as I would love to read it I think that would be a bit much

TBF
_________________
Mellie Amresh says, "Send someone with a bigger dick."

A set of breast implants fall from the sky with a soft plop.

Caretaker Jornnoj Vunn looks up at the sky.

A passing guard suddenly shits himself.

[Kitae]

The worms crawl in the worms crawl out...

[Lynettia]

Some people have had a chance to hear this story but alot of new people haven't so I'm posting it anyway.....


Once upon a time there was a young Jaddan boy named Saul. He wasn't pretty to look at but then beauty isn't a Jaddan's strong suit. But Saul had an unusual gift for a Jaddan.
He was a fantastic dancer. All the people in his town were amazed by his dancing and once a month he'd hold a dance for everyone and he'd dance for them. Then they'd all dance and drink and eat good food. Everyone always had a good time
During the month He'd spend his time making money to pay for his dances and teaching the young people how to dance. So they too could enjoy themselves.
Time went by and each Month Saul would teach his dancing and hold his dances. Sometimes people would come up to him and ask for his help. Some needed a guide. Otheres some clothes or food. And always Saul was happy to help.
Soon Saul began to realize he was alone in the town. Oh don't get me wrong. People would come by and talk. Or they'd stop and ask for help. But no one really knew who he was. He was just the young Jaddan who could dance.
The townspeople enjoyed Saul's dances so much they began to hold dances of their own.
At first Saul was invited to these dances and he went to a couple. He had fun but always felt embarassed because it seemed like everyone was loved by someone. So as time went on he stopped going to their dances. Not because he didn't enjoy them but more because he was embarassed because he was alone and didn't want to intrude.
But as time went on the invitations for him became fewer until finally they stopped. Soon as Saul watched the folk have so much fun without him he began to wonder if he was even needed anymore.
All young Jaddan need a purpose. They need to feel useful.
So one day Saul..well he just disappeared. He walked off and found a place to be by himself. He needed time to think about what he wanted and such.
For some time the town went along as usual. People realized Saul was gone but no one really said much about it. They missed him alot but no one wanted to interfere. They just figured it's what he wanted and let it be.
Time crept by and soon it was nearly time for his monthly dance, and poor Saul paced back and forth in his seclusion.
He wanted so bad to be with the people in the village again and to be dancing. He loved dancing very much but dancing alone just wasn't very satisfying.
So Paul finally made a decision. He went back to the village. Back to the things he loved to do. He once again taught the young people to dance. On his first day back to the village he held his dance.
and that day he danced better then he'd ever danced before. Because that day he danced..not for the other people. Not to impress anyone. That day he danced for himself. He danced for the love of dancing. And for that moment Saul was happy.
The villagers were happy to see him back and all gathered around him telling him how good he was.
Now I'd like to say things changed after that for young Saul but it didnt' change much. Everyone loved Saul because of his gift. But no one really took the time to know him.
But Saul didn't mind so much anymore. Because he learned that doing what you love is enough. The feeling you get from helping others is a good feeling. And sometimes...that's all you need
So if you ever see young Saul roaming the lands. Give him a smile..a hug... and maybe..you too can enjoy his dance
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Life sucks deal with it

[Nkehu]

alrighty, here it is, hope ya all like it....

The Raid
by Nkehu Lho

There was a loud, thundering crash and then what seemed a million bright flashes, like fireworks or exploding stars. He felt something wet and looked down into a dark river…

The ship jerked and shook violently, pitching Mtenke from his bed onto the cold, hard metal floor. Grunting, he picked himself up and sat back on the cot rubbing his head. The voice of Tka Hignu, ship’s pilot, sounded over the comm. Chuckling she said, “That should keep you guys on your toes…or off them.” There was more laughter and she added, “Anyway, it should be smooth sailing from here on out and we should be arriving within the hour.” “So much for sleep”, Mtenke thought, not that he could go back to sleep anyway with that restless feeling gnawing at his gut. He usually felt a bit anxious before going on a job, he wasn’t the patient type anyway, but something was wrong, this feeling was different. It couldn’t be the length of the voyage, sure seven days had passed since this excursion began but Mtenke had been on long flights before. Maybe it was just that the job seemed too easy, way too easy. He murmured, “Man I just want to get this one over with.”

Only numbering 10 in all, the crew of the Red Sun was comprised solely of Darju from the shadier walks of life: some were brigands, some hackers, some assassins. Whatever their specialty, most called them scum. Yet they were the best at what they did and had to yet fail an assignment, Mlogltu would be proud. They had recently received word of an outpost on Shova 5 that was lightly manned and heavily stocked, basically, the thieves dream. There was that small asteroid field to contend with and while it kept most visitors away, a few measly space rocks weren’t going to keep them from their prize. Reports stated that most of the cargo was mundane items; like food, clothing, and medical supplies, but it was rumored there were some precious metals and weapons hidden amongst the crap. Captain Mul said he had a buyer for most of it back on Hutk, minus what the crew skimmed off the top of course.

Mtenke glanced out the window of his cabin, and noticed the proximity of the planet. He couldn’t lose that uneasy feeling that was tying his stomach into knots. The ship’s comm interrupted his thoughts as the Captain’s voice boomed over the airwaves, “Everyone report to the bridge!” “Time for the pep talk”, Mtenke thought. Captain Vken Mul had been leading them for a while now, in fact, he’s the one responsible for bringing most of the crew on board. Like Mtenke, Mul had saved them from some horrible fate or another. He rescued Hru before he had to do hard time on some prison planet and he let Little Jhara on board to escape the abuse of her father. And they’d all grown close in their time together.

The elevator door opened and Mtenke looked at his companions. Each one had a smile on their face, even Vketa who was usually a sullen bitch. The Captain began, “This should be an easy one guys. We storm in, load up, and move out. I can’t imagine there will be any resistance, but I’d like you all to treat this as any other battle. Keep your eyes open and you’re wits about you.” he added, “….and don’t get too cocky”, as he glanced at Nruktu. “Now ready yourselves, we leave shortly and return rich Darju!” They all cheered and returned to their quarters to prepare…
The outpost seemed more like a prison than a supply facility. Towers stood at each corner of the small courtyard that surrounded the large stone building. A tall wall lined with spikes held it all in. “Funny place to store some food don’t you think? There must be something damn good in there.” Mtenke said. Several of the crew nodded or grunted in agreement, anticipation flashing in their eyes. A few even licked their lips with the thought of all the riches to be won. “Maybe this one wouldn’t be so easy.” Mtekne added to himself.

The gates lay open and there was no sign of movement in the courtyard or the towers. Captain Mul gestured and the group split in two, half sweeping to the one side and half along the other. Still nothing. Moving towards the entrance, a few of the band drew back the think metal door. A dimmed hallway greeted them and it seemed the building was only running on emergency power. Once inside, they slowly moved towards the cargo bay, keeping a tight formation in case any of the guards should come along. Mtenke could already taste all the fine food and ale that his portion would bring. Opening the bay doors they caught the first glimpse of their prize. Large crates formed a ring around the room, piled high to the ceiling, while several others lay stacked in the center of the floor. Mtenke howled, so did a few others. Little Jhara even danced.

Suddenly, the boxes popped open revealing several men with assault rifles. The lids fell to the ground, making a thunderous crash as they landed. Mtenke’s gut twinged. More men streamed in through the doorway and out from behind boxes and began firing. The bullets lit up the dark room with a thousand tiny flashes, almost like fireworks. That restless feeling intensified as Mtenke drew his sidearm and moved forward to engage whoever happened to be in his range. He fired off a few shots, taking one down. He spun around and emptied his clip into another. Moving to the side of a crate for cover, Mtenke surveyed the scene. It didn’t look good, half of his companions had already fallen, and the rest would soon. They were overwhelmed. He didn’t see the Captain anywhere, “Hopefully he’s still alive,” he thought. Reloading his gun, Mtenke moved back out into the fray. Three soldiers surrounded him, bullets spraying at him from every angle. He managed to execute two of them before he stumbled forward and finally feel to his knees, a smile coming across his dying face. The floor was slick with the blood of the fallen, cohort and enemy bodies lie in jumbled piles about the room. Leaning back on his heels as if only resting, Mtenke found it hard to breathe and he glanced down at his chest. His mind was still clear and he knew his body was failing. He stared at the blood gushing from his wounds for a moment and then lifted his head again to see the Captain alive and well. Something in the shadows moved, it was a man. Handing Mul a small pouch, the figure came into the dim light. Mtenke recognized the man, he better. He was the reason that Mtenke had been on the run, the reason that he joined this crew. In fact, now it all came into focus, many of his friends had had their own run in with Dhurik. His eyesight failing, Mtenke continued to stare at the pair as they laughed. The light fading, their laughter echoed in his ears until he could hear no more.

[Haidee]

The Sculptor

The Merfolk went berserk. One of their kind found a most unusual structure beneath the waters. A marble structure, it seemed, not allowing the ravages of the sea to cause it to collapse into decay. Cautiously, the small party that had been assembled entered and investigated the remains of this structure.

What they found inside was enough to give them nightmares for a lifetime. Monuments of the Gods were found therein, although one could tell this was no Temple of the Faithful to Aetheria. Statues of Jorel and Jalat abound, each brandishing a weapon of some sort, and the Ioannes, lay on the floor, a sword pierced in his chest--the sword of Jorel. Carmelya lay weeping as Haya and Jalat ravaged her. Diana hung naked from the ceiling, her wings clipped. Orod was beheaded, and Maj and Phedon were monstrously dismembered.

The Merfolk quickly swam away from the cursed place, half-fearing for their eyes which had beheld such horror.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

He tried his best to sell the deed to his house to the local bank as soon as he found out.

But he has loved his house so. How can he not? Memories here abound, memories of his childhood; of falling in love, and of solitude and peace.

The sun was still bright and no sign of the coming cataclysm showed in the skies. It was quite a wonder how all the people continued about their lives around him, heedless of the imminent doom that would befall the city. He tried to remain calm.

He marched into bank, namely the land broker’s office. At this hour the heat was unbearable. Two more citizens were there, and what they were doing was buying deeds into the city.

"Oh, what fools these mortals be," he thought.

When came his turn, the hobbit behind the desk eyed him curiously.

"I say, you're back here," the hobbit said. "And I am telling you, this office is not buying that hovel of yours until you have it fixed!"

He opted to smile in return. "Greetings, my good man. It's a fine day, isn't it? Rather unusual. But I come here not to talk of the weather. I have been coming here for several days already! My house is in very good condition and I intend to sell it."

The hobbit cleared his throat with a sound like he was about to expel phlegm onto his most avid of customers. But he could not deny that fact. The man's house was indeed of noteworthy standing. It started out as a small hovel made of wood--wood that soon fell prey to the most destructive of insects: termites. And yet this man chose to salvage his home. With money earned from dubious means, he fortified the house exterior in sturdy cement, and later on, expensive marble. He installed beautifully crafted windows strategically placed to keep out harsh weather and let in the sun’s light. An attempt at a flower garden in front of the house resulted in a very enterprising rock garden instead, since the flowers refused to grow. Indeed, what the man had was a mansion.

There was no home in the entire city like this man's. Nothing so garbed as of being as shiny and sturdy as marble. So why was he selling it? And why was the hobbit refusing to buy?

"You are crazy!" hurled the hobbit. "Crazy! Delusional! No one dares to come near your cursed home! None of the priests would even attempt to help you! You're mind is in utter disrepair! Oh, how the God Orod must have deprived you even the sentient gifts given to the beggars! Out of this office, or I'll have the guards escort you to jail!"

But the man did not budge. He was used to the hobbit's shrieks. This was a game they played daily.

"Well, if you're not buying it, I guess I am leaving."

The hobbit was dumbfounded. This was new behavior.

"If I were you," the man said, "I'd sell your hole in the ground to the bank, too. Leave the city 5,000 Crowns richer. Go to a place high up in the mountains. Far, very far from the coast."

"I know what you hide in that house of yours!" proclaimed the hobbit. "You worshipper of Jorel! Scum of the universe, you! Oh, may the Gods of Aetheria bring their judgment on you! May you be forever cursed."

"Oh, but they are," said the man with a smile. "They are sending judgment on me tonight. Jorel told me."

With that, the hobbit’s eyes grew wide, and he reached for the hair on top of his head and began pulling tufts of it off. "Out! Out you scum! I would rather be in the company of thieves and murders than be so close to you as to smell your foul breath!"

And the man stepped out of the land broker’s office. It was a chance for the hobbit to think better of what he said about murderers and other villains. Then he whispered, "Maybe not." He didn't want to end up someone’s next victim.

That night, at the hobbit’s home, while he was enjoying his first cup of tea for the evening, he heard rapping on his door. He reluctantly put his cup aside, rose to his feet, and rushed to open the door.

It was the man.

"What are you-"

The man raised his finger to hush the hobbit. "I am giving you this opportunity," he said, "to leave the city with me. The judgment comes tonight. It comes tonight."

The hobbit slammed the door shut. Then, he pressed his little hairy ear to the door, heard the man mount a horse and ride away. "Scum!" he muttered.

A few empty tea cups later, the hobbit lay sound asleep in his soft chair. He did not hear the screams of his neighbors outside. He did not hear the screeches of animals trying to escape from peril. He did not hear the crash of stone against stone as the waters from the sea rose and swallowed the whole city, bringing down with it the unusual marble house with a rock garden up front and the sacrilegious sculptures that resided within.
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>l in corset
Inside an intricately beaded twilight black suede corset with hot pink lacings you see a buttery nipple, a buttery nipple, a steaming pile of gamojab poop, a speckled red crab, a chocolate chip brownie, a map of Haelrahv, a huge blonde hair ball, a severed Haidee head, and your boobs.

[drainm2]

as the title says...

The Brian Wright Campaign

It was late in the evening and within a household there was a man and woman who were putting their only son to bed. The boy had some of the features of the mother but none of the fathers. He had an overall dark appearance and seemed very physically fit and had an air of intelligence and charisma about him as well.
The father walked about the wooden cottage to extinguish the candles all about as the lovely mother sat by her child in bed and told him a tale of a great hero that once saved the town and much of their world in a great war that had long passed. As the tale came to end she said, “Good night Porthos, your father and I love you.”
“Now that the child is safe asleep,” a figure from outside the window thought aloud to itself “I can finely do the master’s biddings.”
The short, slender and darkly clad figure slid in through the window as quietly as a young cat. Moving just as quickly, it approached the sleeping boy and hovered about him. The imp stood above the boy a minute, examining his face in extreme detail.
“What’s so special about you boy? What can he see in you that I can not,” the imp whispered to itself as he slid out a small dagger that had a blade as dark as night, covered in some congealed, smelly goo.
Being as gentle as possible, the figure stuck the tip on the dagger into the boys flesh which made him startle for a second but he quickly fainted and went entirely limp. In one full motion the imp picked up the child and darted towards the window where both slipped through the window as quietly as entering.
As the imp stood outside, the boy’s body thrown over a shoulder, it spread its massive wingspan. The moon catching the creature in all its horror, the light passed through it’s wings, showing off the pattern of veins pulsing blood through its darkened heart. With a fluid swoop down and thrust upward the creature launched into the air, flying into the deep of night. As it flew off it let out a deafening cry, which did not stir the boy but assuredly awoke the parents as the imp wanted.


Some years later…

A man, nearing his twenties, dressed in black pants and a loose-fitting white linen shirt walked down the hall of a giant castle. He paused for a moment to look out one of the windows. He peered out along the horizon of crimson skies that lacked a sun and moon and thick gray landscapes. His eyes darted along the ground and grinned as he watched a war being waged not far off between massively huge demonic creatures. He marveled at the beauty of it as many creatures died and a few of the fallen rose from the dead of their own accord, seemingly. He changed his attention higher, where many of the demons had taken to the air to escape the crowded war only to be attacked by other demons in mid-flight as they attempted to escape or to sling spells of cold, fire, and lightning upon friends and foes alike. One of flying creatures approached the castle and saw the man watching from the window on the castle. It flew closer at an alarmingly fast rate and then suddenly halted and began to say something in an odd language of odd hissing. The man knew what this language was and instinctively pointed a finger at the creature, which quickly turned to stone and went crashing down to its death.
The man pivoted on his heel and resumed his walk down the hall. He approached a large wooden and steel door. He paused to look about and, seeing no one, knocked thrice in sequence upon the door, causing it open. As the door opened, it revealed a large bedchamber. As the man entered the room several dozen of severed hands, some human and most not, began to move closer to the man. He stood in the middle of the mass of crawling hands and said in a powerful voice “We march!”
As the man went to leave, he placed two of the crawling claws upon a banister and said, “Allow none other than I to enter this room.” He then picked up another two and placed one on each shoulder. This being done, he left his chambers and continued down the ever increasing in size hallway to the master’s chambers.
As he walked forward, the army of crawling hands followed on his heels, tapping their ghastly fingers on the green steel floors and walls. The mass of hands was so large that it sounded like an army marching onward. Many of the hands rode piggyback on other hands or on the powerful figure that controlled the hands.
As he reached the door, the man stopped. He picked off one of the hands that rode on him and threw it at the door. It hit with a sickening thud and remained, digging its claws into the door. The next second, black tendrils of energy shot forth from the door itself and wrapped around the hand, choking its unlife.
The man thought for a long moment, grinned as he pointed a finger at the door and chanted something in an odd language. The door crackled and fizzled in a spectacle of blue lights and the figure weaved his fingers through the air, plucking at invisible strands. He did this several times and every time the door was lit in a firework of blue light until it finally no longer did.
“Open the door, NOW,” he commanded one of the claws.
One of the crawling claws leaped up and latched unto the door. Turning the knob to the door, the hand jumped right back off and the door swung open showing off a large bedroom that doubled as a library-study area for the Master.
The man and all the hands piled in behind another figure, which sat at a desk jotting down something on a piece of paper in dark ink. The figure released the pen, which continued to remain at its current position in the air and looked about at the small legion of hands that now surrounded him.
“Ahh, Porthos, didn’t I warn you about this several times before? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice the servants and soldiers that had their left hands severed? Really now, you must give your father and teacher more credit than that. I taught you these tricks, don’t think I haven’t tried them all before,” lectured the figure half-heartedly as he continued to study his writing..
Porthos grinned as he screamed out wildly “You fool! I’ll kill you yet! Attack my fiends!”
All the crawling claws remained completely still except for the two that were placed on Porthos’ shoulders. They leapt out towards the dark figure with lightning speed but just as quickly as the leapt that turned to a dust in a powerful command from the figure. The figure chuckled and simply blinked at Porthos and he feel to the floor in convulsions, withering in pain.
“Have you learned your listen boy,” ask the figure non-chalantly.
“Never!”
“So it shall be then,” sighed the figure. “I shall deal with you else how then. I knew you would make your father proud of his young undead master. However, perhaps forgetting most your lessons will teach you a lesson.”
Porthos suddenly ceased all movement.
“Carry him,” directed the figures to the crawling claws.
Over the next few days the master, Porthos’ father, cast several powerful incantations on Porthos’ body and mind. These spells were to erase parts of his memory. The master also let several undead creatures feed on Porthos’ body. These creatures sapped much of the life force from Porthos but never killed him, just weakened him and drained away his magical power.
“Now with all arrangements in place and most your abilities removed, especially your knowledge of how to make those damned crawling claws, you should make an interesting mortal my son. Go into the world and experience life and prepare it to into my unlife,” cackled the master. Porthos then disappeared in a flash of light and was sucked into another plane of existence.

He awoke on a large ship, tied down in chains and stripped of all clothing and possessions. Although he couldn’t see much from his vantage, Porthos could tell there were several others with him tied down below deck. He tried to wriggle his way free but as he began to move he was overwhelmed with a sharp shooting pain all throughout his body that tempted him to feint. After some time, the pain passed and Porthos realized that his back was wounded, probably beaten or whipped. After much time, Porthos continued to free himself but to no avail so he sat there and waited.
A few hours later, Porthos and a few others were awoken by a tall and muscular man storming into the room. Many of the prisoners moaned at his presence.
“Glad to see you all as well,” chuckled the large man as he looked about the room. “Your awake, it’s a miracle. I thought you were gonna die to soon. Splendid indeed, now you may die with the rest of your friends. But for now, you get to row my boat.” Then the man unchained Porthos and they left the room, much to the others prisoners relief.
As Porthos and his capturer walked up the stairs, the ship suddenly and harshly rocked over, as did the two men. The ship bowed and creaked as it struggled to bring itself back upright. As Porthos rose back up he noticed that the man had hit his head on the wall during their fall. He was either dead or unconscious. Either way, Porthos took no risks and seized the man’s sword and quickly slit the man’s throat.
“Bastard,” Porthos grumbled as he kicked the corpse.
Porthos searched over the corpse for items of use, which was a key ring. Porthos considered taking the clothes but they were far too large to fit him and figured he was better off not.
After finishing his search, Porthos ran upstairs to see what had happened and saw that the waves were becoming disturbingly violent. He also noticed a figure was tied down to the mast of the ship. Porthos walked over to the figure and stood above him to examine him intently. He has pitch-black skin, rich purple eyes, and thick silver hair. He had a slender body and pointing ears, which resembled an elf but he looked like no elf he had seen before.
“Do you wish to die,” ask Porthos.
The dark man groaned and shook his head. Porthos, using his newly attained sword, cut the man free and said, “Well, you’re probably going to die anyways so wait here a moment.”
Porthos hurried back downstairs to where the other prisoners were and gleamed his bloody sword to the prisoners and stated, “As I see it, we have two choices. Die now or die shortly from now and in very painful fashion. So, with that in mind, who wants to die now?”
No one said anything mostly due to the fact that they were gagged and Porthos knew this.
“Good, you all get to die like men,” said Porthos rather chipperishly as he freed one of the prisoners from his chains. He tossed the man the key ring and said, “Now free the others.”
The man nodded and did as instructed. Meanwhile, Porthos used his sword to cut down a man, who was even larger than their ex-capturer, from hanging upside down. He hit the ground with a crashing thump, which cracked a few of the floorboards. The man grinned rather sheepishly and said, “Remind me to thank you later.”
Porthos replied with, “Don’t thank me just yet.”
Once everyone was free, Porthos ordered every up top. Everyone rushed up as quickly as possible and saw the dark man standing up on deck looking at the approaching clouds.
“What is it,” the big man asked.
“A storm -- a storm like no other. It looks like the gods themselves created it. We will all die, undoubtedly.”
“Hmmm…. Well, last call for those who wish to die now,” Porthos said but still none answered him.
The big man grinned widely and said “Thank you. So, what’s your name friend? I would like to know who to thank for freeing us.”
“Friend? Hmm, yes, well. My name is… I… it’s of no concern of yours what my name is.”
“So be it, I suppose,” said the big man.
“Everyone wait here, I’ll be back shortly, and let me see that key ring again. Now no dieing without me,” chuckled Porthos as he went back down below deck.
Searching as quickly as possible, Porthos looked for the Captain’s Room. After checking several doors, he finally found it since it was the only locked room on the ship. Looking about the room, Porthos found a set of clothing that seemed tailored to fit his physique perfectly. The clothes consisted of a pair of black pants and a loose white linen shirt. He quickly put the pants on but as he picked up the shirt he instantly noticed the back of the shirt had been torn all along the back and had been drenched in blood, now stained. He decided to toss the shirt away. Searching the desk that had been bolted to the floor, he found a map and a scroll. He unrolled the note, which was written on what seemed to be flesh and the words were written in what seemed to be blood of some creature.

Menous,
You have already been credited the 200 draknars for your services. Your orders are to simply ride with these prisoners to the middle of the ocean. A baby-sitting trip essentially, I’m sure you don’t mind a break. Bring NO ONE with you on this journey. I shall ensure the safety of your ship and the speed of the winds blowing on your back. Once the ship as reached its intended location you shall be notified of your further instructions.
Upon your return you shall receive an additional 2000 draknars and your losses will be rectified. I’m sure you will find this more than generous.

Signed,
The Master


This note greatly puzzled Porthos but the feel of the treated flesh and smell of the dried blood excited him greatly as well. He tucked the note into a safe container and tucked that safely within a side strap on his pants. Make sure nothing was left unchecked in to the room, Porthos left back to the top deck.
“The storm is about to hit,” the dark man said as the ship rocked back and forth turbulently.
Porthos simply nodded in response and unrolled the map, which threatened to be blown away in the increasing winds. “Anyone know how to read this or know where we are?”
The dark man said he knew how to read the map but no one knew as to their location, which made the map worthless at this point.
“Guess all we can do is wait now. This means now is the time to pray to your god if you worship one,” said Porthos.
Everyone became increasingly nervous as the storm grew nearer, the boat rocked harder, and the waves crashed with more power. Thunder clashed and lightning struck ever closer as the large waves came crashing up and over the sides of the great ship. Many of the men had tied themselves down to secure locations and some tried to hide below deck. Porthos, the big guy, the dark man, and a few others held firmly on the side railing of the ship to watch the storm with awe at its awesome force.
“Are you prepared to die,” asked Porthos.
Both the dark man and the big guy nodded their head solemnly but the rest attempted to ignore Porthos’ comments of death at this point for they knew what was to come.

The storm hit the ship, rocking it from side to side, making the ship groan and creak as if in immense pain. The mast snapped at the and came crashing down, killing several that had tied themselves to it, where it crashed and those that got caught up in the sail and ropes. Porthos and the others continued to keep their death grips on the railing, attempting to ride out the storm right there and not going flying overboard in the torrent.
The ship rocked over to one side as a wave came splashing against the deck at the same time, causing the ship to bring on more water than it already was from the numerous hull breaches and heavy rain. The ship rocked back up and over to its opposite side as the broken mast was slung to the other side, killing more men that were unfortunate enough to get caught in its path. The mast went soaring up in the air and crashing down in the ocean but still remained attached at the base by stubborn, thickened rope that refused to give under the massive strain and weight. The mast being submerged mostly prevented the ship from rocking to the other direction and allowed the ship to take on even more water and faster than before, flooding the lower decks. The ship finally gave in to the stress and strain of fighting the raging storm and floundered on its side. It began to sink and break up under the destructive waves.


A few days later, a young boy was walking along the beach, examining chunks of worked but broken wood that ended up on the beach. He thought it was a ship that was destroyed at sea and thought he might find some treasure to show to his friends. Instead he found a man buried under the rubble of wood. The boy wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy! I found a dead man on the beach,” yelled the boy excitedly as he ran towards his parents.
Porthos suddenly awoke in a fit of coughing and the screaming of the little boy. His entire body ached more than what seemed was even human possible. Never in all his life had he felt pain this unbearable, not even during his arcane rituals in which he had to inflict harm upon himself (or at least the ones he could remember). He slowly sat up and rose to his feet, steadying himself on a piece of wood. He stood there for a minute so as to let his dizziness and pain subside. It did not but he had to get moving, perhaps others had survived. He started his trek along the beach to find those who seemed alive.
Mostly, Porthos found debris and death along the beach but a few survived the storm much to his surprise. After an hour or two of looking, nightfall began to approach so he and the other survivors that followed stopped. In all there was seven survivors, including Porthos, the big guy and the dark man.
“I guess we weren’t as lucky as the others. I suggest we stay together for now for safety in the night. If you wish to leave however, it is of no concern to I,” said Porthos.
Two of the seven left as Porthos finished speaking but made sure to thank him, sarcastically, as they left his presence.
“They will either die or return by day-break I’m sure,” said the big guy. “By the way, I’m known as Gyle.” He grinned a toothful smile.
“If we are doing introductions, you may call me Ardemus. My skills are in the arcane arts of magic, especially those of the more charming nature but I have no spells since I lack a book it seems,” said the dark skinned one.
“You may call me Brian I suppose…. yes, Brian Wright,” said Porthos.
The other two individuals said their names were Ryan and Phillip. Ryan had no skills other than being stealthy, so he said, and Phillip was mostly a scout and an archer as well as a devout follower of Kossuth, the God of Fire. Gurt’s skill, which seemed more like an innate ability to those who knew him, was that he was able with most any weapon given to him. With that in mind, Brian entrusted Gurt with his sword he managed to find among the rubble along the beach.
“Well, now we all know each other. I suggest we get a good night’s sleep. We may have a more exciting future ahead of us,” chuckled Porthos as he stumbled over to a tree. He leaned against the tree and was quickly asleep, as were the rest of the people there.
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Niefl talkin to Rose about his 'relationship' with Mickey

[bakerd15]

Title: My beginning...My End


I began my hunting in a small abandoned park filled with annoying creatures called Asapi. I fit in much better with this community then i had in my own community during adolescent years. I almost felt normal in this new and adventurous city filled with many people of different backgrounds. My training had gone well thus far, thanks to a few helpful souls. I found my calling as a hunter and a powerful mage calling on the elements to aid me in battle.

I wandered the park cutting down many Asapi, Eoshae and the occasional Gamojab (creatures of some annoyance). I continued for quite some time until I heard a deafening, "RAWRRRRR", yes, a "RAWRRRRR". Contimplating what kind of creature this may be i realised this was no kitten that would sit on your chest licking yer chin. This had to be a powerful and mystical beast as i had heard my mother and father describe many times to me. Finally, a chance to prove my power and just how adventurous i was. I searched for an opening to a cave as i had heard the "RAWRRRRR" from a small hole in the ground leading to a huge cavern. I finally stumbled upon an entrance to a cave hidden in a dense thicket nearby the gamojab lair. I entered the cave cautiously and found myself in a cavern with walls covered in bones and rotting bodies. My mind screeched "RUN FOOL!" but my pride took hold and said, "Be strong and prove your worth." Finally my brain taking hold after several minutes i turned to leave only to find the monolith of a blue scaled dragon barring my way.

"Food?" it pondered staring at me expectingly.

I pulled my heavy pulse guns from my holsters and prepared to defend myself best i could. The dragon roared, it resembled laughing to my ears. I aimed my pulse guns at a spot i thought weak and began to take the necessary precations to be ready for evasive maneuvers. He swiped a massive tail at me, i evaded, blessed with great luck. I fired my first volley of pulse ammo at it, they glanced off it's thick scales and the dragon snorted puffs of smoke. I began preparing a spell of ice and fired another volley. This time i missed altogether. The dragon seemed to become increasingly angry, this time it attacked with it's teeth, quickly chomping. Before his jaws of death quite reached me my world went black.

Part2.

An Alteri, of a mere 56 Alterian years, I was thrust from my home into the world called Haelrahv. I had led a sheltered life with my mother and papi. Constantly told by my mother, "travel not the world outside, it is a vast land filled with miscrients and mythical beasts prone to attack." I would smile and nod agreelingly as iI had seen my father do a vast number of times, although i truly did not agree. I was very adventurous for an Alteri, as a child, other children wished to play mind games, levitating boxes and such. I always suggested a game of hunting creatures are traveling to distant realms. They would laugh and occasionally pretend to hunt me, throwing sticks, stones and even the boxes they were lifting with their minds. I was Vulthedar Lovasus, I was...an outcast.

Part3.

I felt no pain and did not stumble but reawoke to find myself looming over the dragon's dead body, they spell i had been preparing had been spent. Had i acheived the impossible by defeating this most deadly of foes? The world went black again as my body fell to the floor...

Vulthedar Lovasus' last thoughts after his initial blackout were just dreams, dreams painfully shattered by reality as his mangled body fell from the dragon's grasp. Gashes from where teeth had impailed him riddled him like the target of a gridgun, his body was torn nearly in half about the waist. He was never found, his dreams of adventure, mythical beasts and battle were at least satisfied. All his dreams and hopes satisfied by his beginning and by his end.
_________________
"I don't intend for this to take on a political tone. I'm just here for the drugs. "
--Nancy Reagan, former First Lady

[the blue fairy]

you have till thursday night at midnight central time to submit

Then I will have all entry titles and authors be entered into the voting booth which will be located at cloud court

After the winners are established there will be a small event at a time that will be announced where cash prizes will me given out, Mickey has offered to host this event.

Everyone come and hear our winners tell thier storys and poems

TBF
_________________
Mellie Amresh says, "Send someone with a bigger dick."

A set of breast implants fall from the sky with a soft plop.

Caretaker Jornnoj Vunn looks up at the sky.

A passing guard suddenly shits himself.

[the blue fairy]

Ok Drain and Baker get ahold of me so I know who you are in game so i can enter your storys

IM is kittypesh

TBF
_________________
Mellie Amresh says, "Send someone with a bigger dick."

A set of breast implants fall from the sky with a soft plop.

Caretaker Jornnoj Vunn looks up at the sky.

A passing guard suddenly shits himself.

[bakerd15]

Hi, sorry for the delay in contact. I have no computer seeing as how it bit the dust. Im unable to play from school so i guess im out. Lata
_________________
"I don't intend for this to take on a political tone. I'm just here for the drugs. "
--Nancy Reagan, former First Lady

[the blue fairy]

The winners were tallied and it was a very close contest and I had planned on holding a ceremony but do to the lack of people voting and the missing players that entered the contest it just wouldnt be very fun or very fair if I went ahead with the whole thing. So since it was as I said a very close contest I will be awarding all entrants an even 25 K. Which you can collect from me personally.

Im sorry for the inconvience and I loved all the storys and poems and wish there had been a better response from the rest of the community on this. If I had I already had plans for my next contest but I think I am retiring from trying to do these.

I will however announce the first place winners in both categorys so you can congratulate them on their efforts yourselves......

Short Story Contest----Haidee
Poetry Contest----------Lynettia

Again I am sorry for the inconvience and if nothing else I appreciated your storys and poems as did Mickey who I would like to thank for the help in this aswell.

Thank you all
sadly,
The Blue Fairy (Stilldawn)
_________________
Mellie Amresh says, "Send someone with a bigger dick."

A set of breast implants fall from the sky with a soft plop.

Caretaker Jornnoj Vunn looks up at the sky.

A passing guard suddenly shits himself.

[Nkehu]

aww i was lookin forward ta havin a live rendition of everyones stuff. well if anyone's interested i'd still like to hear it live, so how bout Friday night around 9pm est at my...er...Rirgon's bar in the Darju district, we have a storytelling. i'll tell mine (might even be somethin new) and you tell yours, i'll even buy the refreshments. doesn't matter ta me if ya entered the contest or not either, i jus wanna hear some good stories an poems. hope ta see some of ya there.


Nkehu